My Dear Friend

In memory of Rabbi Shlomo Levine

Rabbi Baruch Farber had a melancholy air about him, even when doing what he felt most called upon to do - to teach Torah. Tuesday mornings he would gather a small group of residents at the local nursing home and review with them the Torah portion for the upcoming Sabbath. He often had the feeling that those who came were doing so less for what he had to offer and more for what the management had to offer - namely, a chit for every activity the resident attended which could be turned into money on the monthly excursion to the shopping center.

Rabbi Farber had been teaching in the nursing home for a while but it was only recently that he had been bringing a colleague to the class. Rabbi Solomon Rubin was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. His wife cared for him as best she could at home but it was a heavy burden. By bringing his friend to his class it eased the strain on her for a few hours at least.

The rabbis had been classmates at Rabbinical School in New York but their friendship blossomed only after they both found themselves in Chicago. They were an odd couple - everybody said so. People wondered what they found in one another. In better times they would ruminate about it themselves. How could a man like Rabbi Farber who saw himself as a spiritual descendant of the Vilna Gaon, a learned but austere rabbi, be close to someone his exact opposite. For Rabbi Rubin saw himself as a disciple of Reb Nachman of Bratslav (Breslov) who taught that whoever lives in joy does his Creator's will. Unlikely friends indeed, but there it was, friends nonetheless.

Rabbi Rubin could never quite remember where they were going when Rabbi Farber picked him up on Tuesday mornings. But once in class, after invariably being introduced as "my dear friend," a change came over him. He was once again the rabbi who relished the words he so loved and missed. Rabbi Farber took note of course but it was the class that truly responded to Rabbi Rubin. His joviality, his smile, his winks, and his contented deep breaths when remembering a particularly beloved passage from Scripture all had their effect and won their hearts.

And so, on the sad day that Rabbi Farber announced that Rabbi Rubin would no longer be attending the class - it had become too much for him to leave his home - the class asked if it would be all right just this once if, instead of Torah, they could talk about what they could do for Rabbi Rubin. Someone suggested a gift and it was decided that the group would consolidate all their chits and buy the rabbi a gift from the local photo shop. It was also decided that instead of the monthly excursion to the shopping center they would take one final ride to Rabbi Rubin's home.

It was Mrs. Rubin who took the photograph which was later placed in the lovely picture frame which was the class's gift. There they were - the men and women standing in a semi-circle around the divan on which the rabbis sat. It must have been a moment of clarity for Rabbi Rubin for he was tightly holding Rabbi Farber's hand, but it must also have been a moment of clarity for Rabbi Farber who, unlike himself, wore a smile on his face, a bitter sweet smile to be sure, but a smile nonetheless.